'Africans going Dutch': Part 27 - Facing the day

I am always in a rush, a rush to be on time, be it to the supermarket, the gym or to catch the bus before it’s too late and I have to wait another 15 minutes. This is the part that reminds me I am truly African, from a small village along the Kenyan coast where few people owned a watch and punctuality was a difficult concept to grasp.

By Alice Mapenzi Kubo

I also hate waiting. So, I either arrive exactly on time or a few minutes late. This even happens when I have a doctor’s appointment. Doctors in the Netherlands are not to be kept waiting – you get punished immediately. Twice, I was five minutes late and the doctor wouldn’t see me anymore. I had to make a new appointment. But when I am on time, those are the days I feel integrated among the Dutch – in control.

This morning, I am out my door at 8:03. The bus I have to catch is at 8:09. I step into the elevator, heading from the third floor down. There is a mirror inside, and I have a minute to determine if I am fit to face the day. Is my hair OK? Did I remember to wear earrings? Do I look rested?

Without noticing it, I reach the ground floor. A neighbour waiting sees I am not ready to step out. He opens the door of our old-fashioned elevator. “You are beautiful, you know,” he says, “you really are!” How kind, and what a nice way to tell me not to waste his time with my vanity. A bit embarrassed, I respond in Dutch, “Thank you very much, Mijnheer,” and dash out.

Outside the building now, I see it’s a beautiful spring morning, dry and a bit warm. My neighbourhood has plenty of trees. Birds sing their morning tune. I am walking very fast now, to catch that bus. Three minutes left.

Ahead of me is my neighbour, walking his dog. I catch up. Always cheerful, he says: “With you I do not have to turn and see who is approaching. I can always tell by the sound of your footsteps.” I smile, though my memory takes back me to my early days in the Netherlands. Then I hardly could afford a smile, particularly not to strangers, for fear of being misunderstood.